Caught Up In You
by whatifellinlovewith
Summary: "Her eyes are wide now, and her family is clapping around them but it sounds distant, because all he can focus on is her parted lips and all he can do is wonder what it would feel like to kiss her. And wondering turns to knowing when he leans down and presses his lips to hers." Season 2 AU. (Known on tumblr as 'The Proposal')
1. Chapter 1

_**Caught Up In You**_

* * *

 _Known on tumblr as 'The Proposal'._

* * *

 **For Alex, even though she read this on tumblr forever-ago.**

* * *

 **This chapter is an exact replica of chapter eighty-nine of _Prompt Me Anything,_ but the rest of this will be previously unposted on FFn. Also, this takes place in season 2, pre-Demming, and definitely goes AU.**

* * *

When Kate asked him to come and be her fake date at her family reunion and her cousin's wedding, which would wrap up the reunion he had been shocked, to say the least.

When she had thanked him for accepting, despite his teasing remarks, with a strange side-hug that had his breath caught in his chest, he hadn't known what to expect out of the weekend.

But it was when she picked him up at his place and told him that they had to act like a _serious_ couple, one who had been together for a while and saw a future together, he hadn't known what to do.

And now he stands inside _their_ room in her _grandmother's_ house and he can barely form a coherent thought, and yet she's effortlessly rambling about how she'll take the floor, since he already did her the favor of actually coming and he's so amazed by the fact that he actually gets to play house with Kate Beckett that he can barely think.

She wraps her hand around his before they leave the room, reminds him that they're supposed to be in love and happy and talking about spending the rest of their lives together, and then leads him out of the room like she's actually happy about this arrangement, but she _can't_ be, can she?

Her explanation had been simple enough. Now that her cousin Sofia is getting married, she's the last of her cousins to not be married, and she knew before hand that if she had shown up alone, she would get bugged non-stop about when she would go out looking for Mister Right.

He had asked her why she was asking him and not Ryan or Esposito, someone she actually admitted to not hating. And her answer to that had been rather reasonable, too. With her out of the precinct, Montgomery needed both boys, but he wouldn't be at the precinct anyway, with her gone.

And, of course, he had accepted, because even though she pretends to hate him, most of the time, he can't deny her anything.

They walk into the room and the clapping that erupts around them immediately tells him that she was right, her family actually was all waiting for her to find Mister Right. And now they all think Mister Right is _him_ and he can't help but wish that this was real, and then pushes that thought back.

They make the rounds quickly. Kate introduces him as her boyfriend and shadow. He shakes the hand of every man, gets a quick hug from every woman in Kate's family, and the entire time, she doesn't let go of his hand, even though she's given the perfect excuse multiple times.

It's her grandmother that throws Kate off her game. Grandma Ruth, as Kate affectionately calls her, is quick to ask Kate when the wedding is, and when that turns Kate into a stuttering fool, he pipes up and tells Grandma Ruth that that's for _him_ to know and Kate to find out.

And then the hard question comes, once again from Grandma Ruth. "What's the story?" she asks. "I mean, how did you two get together? We heard from James that you were working together, but never that you guys were a couple. Oh, that's my Jimmy, always leaving out the important stuff."

Kate had elbowed him, whispered for _him_ to come up with something, since he's the writer.

So he does.

"We had just finished up a really hard case," he tells her family, and, partially as an excuse to hold her close as he recounts a fantasy he's had multiple times, partially to see how she reacts, releases her hand and pulls her against his side. It almost doesn't feel like an act when she rests her head on his shoulder. "And I still wasn't used to it, the real thing, you know?"

Her family nods in unison.

"So Kate here, to comfort me, asked me out for a burger and a shake," he continues, and looks down to see Kate looking up at him with wide eyes. "After we finished eating," he says, more for her than for her family, "I didn't want to let her go, so I asked her out for drinks. She accepted. And then, while we were out, I asked her to dance. She accepted that, too. And when we kissed, I knew there was no going back. I think she did, too."

Her eyes are wide now, and her family is clapping around them but it sounds distant, because all he can focus on is her parted lips and all he can do is wonder what it would feel like to kiss her.

And wondering turns to knowing when he leans down and presses his lips to hers, soft and hesitant at first, hoping he didn't read her all wrong. But then her lips are moving against his and his hands are framing her face and her fingers are digging into his shoulders. His tongue traces the seam of her lips, her family forgotten, and the moan she lets out is so soft but has him tilting her head upwards towards him, accepts the touch of her tongue against his.

It's a wolf whistle that has them pulling apart. Her eyelids are fluttering, his mind is foggy, and he's only vaguely aware of the cheers of her male cousins in the distance. But, really, he's just looking at her, all wide green eyes, and teeth tugging at her lip and heaving breath.

"Sorry," he whispers to her, the word for only her to hear.

"Don't be," she whispers back, and her lips, slightly swollen from their kiss and from the bullying of her teeth, curl into a small smile, a smile he mirrors.

There's no going back.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Caught Up In You**_

* * *

 _AKA 'The Proposal'_

* * *

 **For Alex, even though she read this on tumblr forever-ago.**

* * *

They don't get the chance to talk right away. She ends up being dragged away by a few of her cousins who insist that, after that kiss, they need to have some girl talk, because her cousins don't know that _that_ kiss was their first. An amazing first kiss. The perfect first kiss.

He ends up being dragged away by her cousins' husbands, pulling him towards the couch and popping a beer for him, which he accepts. They ask him a lot about Kate, how he got her to stop focussing solely on her job, how they got her to bring a guy home to the family.

So he tells them the truth, leaving out the fact that he and Kate aren't _actually_ together. He tells them that he walked into her precinct and started pulling on her pigtails, figuratively, of course. He tells them about the flirting, about the late nights at the precinct, about the secrets exchanged between them. He tells them about how she caught him off guard by inviting him, how he was taken so off guard by how happy she had been when he said yes. He tells them everything he can without revealing too much.

Across the room, Kate is sitting in the kitchen, on one of the barstools at the counter. Even from here, he can see the red tint to her cheeks, her flush making him wonder what exactly she and her cousins are talking about. He watches as her head dips, her shoulder-length hair hiding her face, and he smiles.

"Hey, Rick, you think you can stop looking so lovesick for a few minutes?" is what breaks him from his thoughts, the loud, booming voice of her cousins Sofia's fiancé, that has him turning towards Jonathan.

He smiles half-heartedly, keeping his voice low as he speaks. "Is it that obvious?"

His question pulls a disbelieving laugh from Jon's throat, and he turns to look at Kate again, sees her shy smile before she turns back to the girls and he turns back to the guys.

"'Cause, Rick, there's a tradition at the these things where all the guys have to go out and cut down the firewood for the bonfire, which is tonight, by the way. As the new guy, you have to cut the most wood. You ready, city boy?" asks Jon, his face serious, but his eyes teasing.

"I think I can manage," he responds, and then he suddenly finds himself walking outside, following the boys to where a pair of axes are leaned up against the house. Two of the guys, who have been in the family for years, pick them up.

He never thought chopping wood would be easy, but he also didn't expect it to be as hard as it was. It was tiring and exhausting and he has a feeling it would have been so much easier if he was upset, but he was trapped in dreamland with the memory of Kate's lips against his and the knowledge that she wanted it, wanted the kiss, wanted _them,_ and he can't pull a drop of anger from the deepest, darkest parts of him.

Afterwards, he finds himself sweaty and gross and lost in a dream of tonight's bonfire. There was a lot of wood, and from what the boys said, there's a lot of booze and a lot of old family stories that circle the fire. But it's not that, the fact that he's about to be let in on family secrets and stories that could involve Beckett. No, all his mind can conjure is an image of her, of Beckett, of Kate, sitting by the fire, happy and light-hearted and not weighed down by murder and injustice, her eyes alight, the glow of the fire flickering across her face, reflected in green eyes, gleaming on pink lips. It's all he can see. Her. Beckett. _Kate_. And the image is beautiful.

He walks absent-mindedly into their room, closing the door behind him, intending on taking a quick shower before joining her family once again. He walks over to the window, briefly turns towards the door to the bathroom that's right off their bedroom, which is closed, and then looks back out the window, pulls his shirt over his head, pushes his shorts off his waist, his boxers following. He throws his clothes onto the bed.

And then he turns towards the bathroom, still lost in the image of her, glowing in firelight, not focused on anything but that, lost, getting lost in the image of her, feeling the effect it has on him, on his body, the way it pulls at his heart. It makes him want her, not just in the obvious physical way, but in an emotional way. It makes him want to make her smile and laugh more often. It makes him want to know _every single layer_ of the Beckett onion. It makes him get lost.

And he stays lost, stays lost until he suddenly feels something against him, wet and limber and then suddenly tense and just as surprised as he is and he barely has a the chance to identity it as Kate. And she's wet and naked and the unexpected weight of her body against his has him tumbling to the floor on his back, her body falling on top of his, just as gloriously naked as he is. His hands braces on her back, her knees straddle his hips and _oh God_ , no matter how many times he's imagined _this_ , being pressed against a naked Kate Beckett, this is not how he expected it.

And she scrambles off him, asks him over and over " _Why are you naked_?" and he finds himself asking her over and over " _Why are you wet_?" and it's the worst possible choice of words but it's really the only logical sentence his mind can formulate right this instant.

She manages to get off him, stumbles towards the bed and rips the comforter off, sending pillows flying. He manages to get to his feet, finds a random blanket sitting on a nearby chair and wraps it around his waist, turns to face her, meets her gaze, her eyes wide with shock.

"Sorry," he manages. "I thought you were still downstairs with the girls."

"Oh," she manages. "Uh… No. No. I'm not. I took a… I took a shower. And I didn't have a towel. And… Oh crap. I'm so sorry, Castle. This is so awkward. I… This isn't how I wanted this to go," she continues, and she dips her head, her cheeks now stained red.

"Uh… Yeah," he replies dumbly, because he's pretty sure she just implied that she had a preferred way of seeing him naked for the first time. Or maybe she meant something else. He's not sure. His brain isn't actually working.

So they stand there, in awkward silence for a while, both staring at the floor, sneaking glances at each other, neither sure of what to say or do, until he eventually gains the ability to speaks, the ability to formulate an actual sentence.

"So, we should probably talk, right? About the…" he manages, trailing off to leave the choice up to her.

"About the kiss," she finishes for him, her voice soft, a whisper.

"Yeah," he whispers back.

"Yeah."

And then, at the worst possible time, there's a loud knock on the door, a scream through the wood. "Kate? Grandma wants your help with the bonfire snacks!"

Kate winces, looks towards the door and then back at him apologetically. "I'm coming, Sof," she tells her cousin, and then turns to him. "We'll talk later?" she whispers.

He smiles and nods. "Later," he agrees.

Her blush is soft and beautiful, and he shy eyes meet him. "I should, uh, get dressed. And you need to shower. You smell."

He laughs softly, their banter once again simple and normal and _them_.

"And you have a really nice tattoo."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Caught Up In You**_

* * *

 _AKA 'The Proposal'_

* * *

 **For Alex, even though she read this on tumblr forever-ago.**

* * *

The bonfire is great. They all tell stories, some about every cousin, every aunt and uncle. One specific one is his favorite, one about Kate as a rebellious teen who tried to sneak out her window to go to a party and ended up twisting her ankle when she landed, only to have locked herself outside the house. While one of Kate's cousins told the story, her cheeks burned red, illuminated by the flicker of firelight, and that was his favorite part.

She spends the evening sitting in a lawn chair, legs crossed, leaning forward. Engaged and happy. Sipping at her glass of wine. Laughing and having fun like he's never actually seen her do before. She's beautiful, the flicker of fire flashing in her eyes, the glow of the evening surrounding her. Starlight is disguised by the fire, but when she looks up, her eyes grow wide with amazement at the view, a view you can never get in New York City.

It's reached the early hours of the morning when they decide to turn in for the night. Most of Kate's cousins are drunk, but she's limited herself to one glass of wine. A couple of the boys stay behind to put the fire out while everyone else walks back to the house, couples breaking off from the ground, Grandma Ruth yawning.

She stands up and, surprisingly, holds her hand out to him. His face must show how shocked he is, because she chuckles to herself, the sound soft in comparison to her cousins' loud, drunken rambling, and thrusts her hand towards him, again.

He takes it, squeezes her fingers ever so softly.

Once they get to the room, she disappears into the bathroom, telling him over her shoulder that she expects him to be decent when she comes out. He watches until she disappears behind the door, and then, as quickly as he possibly can, changes out of his jeans and into a pair of cotton pyjama pants and an old, worn t-shirt.

She comes out of the bathroom wearing a pair of really short shorts and a tank top. It has him fighting the urge to rake his eyes down her bare legs, and he's suddenly struck with memories of old rules in high school about girls not wearing tank tops because they show too much skin.

She smiles at him, still standing by the door. He can't help but smile back, even as he forces a hard swallow.

"I can sleep on the floor," he suggests softly, shyly.

"Nonsense," she counters, and suddenly, she's walking towards the bed, pulling the covers back, plopping herself down onto the mattress. She taps the spot next to her. "We can share the bed. That floor will just screw up your back," she tells him, smiling as she gets comfortable against the pillows. "Besides, we, uh… We have to talk."

He nods, and sits down next to her on the bed, lying down quickly. He's staring at the ceiling when he speaks. "Part of me thought we would pretend it never happened."

"Is that what you want to do?" she asks, and he turns towards her to see her looking back at him.

"No. You?"

She smiles. "No." And then she looks back up the ceiling, so he does the same. "Now, I'm going to tell you things about myself that I don't tell friends, okay?"

He chuckles softly.

"Don't laugh. I saw it in a movie," she tells him, and he feels her fingers jab his arm playfully, before everything goes serious again, silent and it's real now, that they're talking about this. There's no going back.

"I have a tattoo," she says eventually. "It's on my hip. The Chinese symbol for justice. I got it right after I graduated for the academy."

He smiles.

"I got my navel pierced when I was a teenager, but it got infected, so I had to take the stud out," she continues, laughing softly. "And I have a very mild allergy to honey. It makes my mouth itchy. And bee stings give me a rash."

He reaches over for her, finds her hand with his, and she doesn't pull away.

"I took gymnastics when I was a kid. And dance, for a couple years. Hated it," she continues, her voice falling to what can barely be considered a whisper. "Math was my favorite class in school." She sighs. "And…Sorenson was my only serious boyfriend since before my mother died."

She turns to him, smiling sweetly, her face barely visible in the room's dim lighting.

"Your turn," she whispers.

"Okay." He nods. "Well, no tattoos," he laughs. "I got one of my ears pierced while drunk once, but had the whole closed up by the next day. It was stupid. Meredith almost killed me."

She laughs at that, squeezing his hand like this is something they do all the time.

"I'm mildly allergic to almonds. They, uh, make my mouth itchy, like honey does for you," he continues. "I hated gym class. My mother enrolled me in acting classes when I was young, and then pulled me out because she thought she would be able to teach me better."

He smiles at her, and squeezes her fingers when she smiles back.

"Meredith cheated on me with one of her directors, moved across the country and mailed me divorce papers," he explains. "My marriage to Gina was more a publicity stunt than anything. So was the whole playboy persona. Gina was the only woman I ever brought home to meet Alexis. I don't trust anyone with her."

"You asked me to take care of her if something was to happen to you," she whispers in response, and he smiles, nodding slowly. "You trust me with her?"

"Yeah, Kate, I do," he whispers back.

She smiles. "I'm glad."

They fall silent for a moment, eyes locked, and he can't help but smile because this is something he's never had. He's been married twice, and he's never had this sort of intimacy in a relationship.

And he and Kate aren't even in a relationship yet.

"Kate?" he whispers, breaking the silence. She hums, telling him to continue. "What does this mean?"

She smiles, shifts so she's closer to him, her knees brushing against his thighs ever so softly. She releases his hand, and her palm lands on his arm. His now free hand travels up to her side.

"This means," she begins, "that tomorrow, when we go downstairs being all romantic and intimate and all that stuff, it won't be an act."

When their lips meet, he gets lost in her kiss all over again.

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 **the end.**


End file.
